


Don't Go Looking for Some Kind of Rescue

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Gavin's too young, too stupid by far when he stumbles into trouble. The kind that follows him for the rest of his life. Tangles him up so much he can't see a way out, and thank God for that.





	Don't Go Looking for Some Kind of Rescue

Gavin's always been an odd sort, quiet and quick and clever, until he isn't, and then it's chaos and confusion and somehow, somehow, he pulls through. Maybe not unscathed, but he pulls through.

Young and too stupid by far and he discovers the internet, and it's a _wonder_ , opens up the world before him like nothing before. Endless possibilities and so much potential, and he throws himself forward without a second thought. Learns so much, modern day thief quiet and quick and clever, until he's not.

Until he makes a mistake because he's young and too stupid by far, and -

“Oh, shit.”

Americans, a gang, a crew? And he's made an enemy of them, hasn't he. Gone and stuck his nose in business not his own and they found out, and this is the trouble everyone's always told him will come knocking one day. (That Dan had before he'd gone and joined up. Leaving Gavin alone with his too-big ideas and ambitions and no one to tell him no, to think for a moment. Just one.)

He panics, fear a bright sharp thing in his chest and runs, or tries too, but he's too slow. Made the mistake of thinking they wouldn't have a long enough reach, that he'd have time, but they do and he doesn't.

Gets taken off the street like something in a movie, rough burlap bag over his head, and pushed and shoved and dropped down into a hard chair in a room that echoes. Bag pulled off his head, and that endlessly cliché spotlight shining in his eyes and _him_.

Founder of the gang, the crew, and Gavin feels real fear because he's seen what they're capable of, the Roosters because the internet is a wonder, isn't it.

“So you're Gavin.”

Gavin thinks about his life to that point, distressingly short and so very stupid, and says, “And you're Burnie.”

It goes on like that for a while. Burnie pulling up a chair and _chatting_ with Gavin, who has his hands tied behind his back. Wrists rubbed raw where he'd tried to free himself before Burnie walked in, panic fluttering in his chest.

Every so often Gavin's attention will go to the figure standing somewhere behind the spotlight when they shift, hears it and can't see them, and that's worse, so much worse. Doesn't know if this is it, then. Bullet between the eyes as Burnie smiles amiably at him, like they're old friends catching up after not seeing each other for a while.

It never comes, and eventually Gavin hears what Burnie's saying. That he's interested in what Gavin could do for them, _if_ , and Gavin is young, and too stupid by far and says, “Yes”, and ”I understand”, and “Wait, what?”

And Burnie, he laughs and leans forward. Pats Gavin's cheek, says, “Smart kid,” and “Don't fuck this up” and “You want lunch?” because they've been at it for hours, this little meet and greet, and Gavin is so very confused.

“I, er,” he says, head tilted slightly. “Sure?”

It's the beginning of a beautiful friendship and a lifetime of trouble, and Gavin never saw it coming.

========

He's not really sure he likes America when he gets there. Too loud, too everything, really.

But then Burnie puts a hand on his shoulder and shows him where he'll be working, introduces him around and Gavin is so very aware he's in over his head. Sees others looking at him oddly, thoughtfully, and wonders what he agreed to.

But there's no fear in that thought, no dread in his bones pulling him down. Just Burnie watching him patiently, and a chance, an opportunity to spread his wings and find out what he can really do.

And Gavin, he loves his work. Stirring up trouble, for others, himself, it's all the same in the end. He works with people who fold him into their little group readily enough, teach him the things he didn't know he needed to know. Finesse and a funny sort of appreciation, the kind that allows him to admire the beauty in a thing before he brings it crashing down.

Burnie insists he learn other things too, and this is where Gavin balks at first. Claims he won't need to know, to learn, but Burnie takes hold of his arm, pulls the sleeve back and there are faint scars around Gavin's wrist now. Pale and ragged, and Gavin's voice deserts him.

“Humor me,” Burnie says, no give in his voice, and Gavin does because he remembers that feeling of dread. Fear as he waited alone for hours in a room that echoed. Arms behind his back and that fluttering in his chest.

So Gavin learns.

He learns how to fight. And even though he's not the strongest or the most skilled, he's fast, he's agile. He's _resourceful_.

He learns how to shoot a gun, learns he's a decent shot. Does well on the range, is somewhat worse in less controlled situations, but he's adequate, and really, that's better than he was expecting.

He learns how to use a knife, gaining a few scars in the process but this is a thing that catches and holds his attention long enough to edge past adequate into meets expectations with the potential to exceed them one day.

There are other things he learns, too, working with the Roosters. Little bits and pieces he collects along the way, builds into himself, makes his own, and doesn't miss the way Burnie's smile turns quietly satisfied.

======== 

Gavin meets Geoff shortly after Burnie brings him to America. Learns he was the one with Burnie in England in the room that echoes.

Here and now, Geoff's the one who takes Gavin round to the gym where he learns to fight, teaches him how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb. The one who takes him to the shooting gallery and teaches him how to use a gun, hit the target more times than not. The one who hands him a knife and gives him a pat on the back as he sends him into the gym with an intimidating bear of a man and tells him he'll be back to pick up what's left of him after an hour with a little laugh as if it's a joke.

Geoff's the one who keeps an eye on Gavin when Burnie's not there to do it himself, who bundles Gavin into a car and takes him out. Gets him out of the base and the room Gavin works and into the city. Gets to know this little bit of America and thinks it's not complete rubbish after all, as Geoff laughs at him and that chill that never quite left Gavin's bones when he realized he'd well and truly fucked up starts to thaw.

It's Geoff who heads out to Los Santos a year after Gavin comes to America, head full of ideas, ambitions for that city, and Gavin who stays with the Roosters. Goes back down into that room with like-minded people and works and works and works.

And it's Geoff Burnie sends Gavin to, when things go to shit. When a rival crew rolls up and starts trouble with the Roosters. Enough that Burnie looks at his people and makes decisions that scatter them - “For now, Gavvo, for now,” - and Gavin packs his things and takes a flight out to Los Santos.

Geoff's the one waiting for him at the airport, looking a little more tired than the last time Gavin saw him, a little less bright.

“Hey,” Geoff says, arm pulling Gavin in for a hug, tight and crushing and like coming home. “Long time no see, dickhead.”

========

Geoff sets Gavin up with a room of his own, enough space for his computers, his gear, and leaves him to it.

Heads off to make his dreams, ambitions a reality in a city that crushes people like him underfoot day after day, dream after dream.

Gavin sits in his room, and the internet is a wonder. Opens up the world before him like nothing before. Endless possibilities and so much potential, and he throws himself forward without a second thought. Learns so much, modern day thief quiet and quick and clever, but this time he's a little bit older, a little bit smarter.

Takes all the things, the tricks he learned with the Roosters and applies them here. Sets one track down to root through the city of Los Santos, picking up little tidbits of information to piece back together into a greater whole to hand to Geoff. The other leads back to the Roosters, the beast stalking their borders, and Geoff sees, and Geoff knows.

“Fucking Christ, Gavin,” he says, tired and aching because he's here, and they're there, and still Burnie wants him here. Wants solid footing in Los Santos, wants Geoff to secure it, make the city his. “You need to sleep.”

Gavin shrugs, because _yes_ , just not right now.

========

Six months, seven, and Burnie calls Gavin back to the Roosters when they've dealt with the rival gang. Broken them down to nothing and come back all the stronger for it.

Gavin goes, leaving behind his room and the network he's built there with Geoff and something like guilt, like regret, for the first time in his life.

He finds Jack, the moment he's back. Jack who's tired and this side of burned out after months fighting an enemy looking to kill the Roosters, their legacy. Edges smoothed down and a shadow of the man Gavin met months ago, a lifetime ago.

Gavin looks at him, this man who has always had Geoff's back, and says, “Geoff needs you,” because it's true, and they both know it.

Los Santos isn't the kind of city you go into alone with the kinds of ambitions, dreams Geoff has. You do, you don't succeed.

Geoff has resources most wouldn't, thanks to the Roosters, but even that's not enough in Los Santos.

So Gavin goes looking for Jack, and tells him this simple truth, and Jack.

He's always been Geoff's before anyone else's. Before Burnie, the Roosters, and he heads to Los Santos without looking back.

Burnie goes to Gavin not long after, head tilted just so, lips pulled up into an odd smile, and says, “Smart kid.”

========

Burnie starts taking Gavin along with him more and more when he tends to business, and Gavin learns, doesn't he. Learns and learns and learns, and people notice. Eyes moving from Burnie to him. Quiet, considering, and Gavin looks back.

He meets all kind of interesting people out there, away from his computers and in the wide open world where safety isn't certain, where shit goes wrong. And there's fear, natural, healthy, but it's not overwhelming and in time Gavin learns to push past even that. 

It's how he meets Ray, strikes up a friendship with him. The kind where Gavin points him towards jobs that might end with a nice network of contacts for Ray, leaves hints about the ones that might not end well, but always, always it's Ray's choice in the end, isn't it. 

The same way Ray will pass along information he comes into, whispers and rumors about people who look at the Roosters and thinks they've gotten complacent, too certain of their position in the world and think to topple them. 

And when Geoff, who Gavin has remained in contact with, has a thread open to him always, mentions needing a sniper in a late night conversation, soft, quiet, Gavin says, “Well, I happen to know someone who might be a good fit?” 

A week later, Brownman arrives in Los Santos and not long after that Burnie pushes into the little corner of the room Gavin works in with like-minded people and gives him a _look_. Asks if he's seen the news lately, heard anything from Los Santos, and Gavin shrugs, bit of a grin curving his lips.

“May have,” he answers, gestures at his machines, busy cracking problems for him. “Been busy, though. So much to do.”

Burnie _hmms_ , and leaves him to it, amused. 

So very, very amused

========

Gavin meets the infamous Vagabond by accident.

Coming back from a meet with an old contact in a city he's not all that familiar with. Burnie's insistence, helping Gavin stretch his wings, learn the way the currents work in their world, and cuts through a back alley on his way to the safe house. 

It's where he runs across a figure in dark leather and a skull mask, and Gavin knows – of course he does – who it is. (He's young still, but not that stupid. Never that stupid.)

The Vagabond is staggering along using the brick wall of a building to keep him upright, leaving a streak of glistening red behind him. One hand curled around his ribs, the other clutching a gun in his hand.

Gavin comes to a stop, feels a faint fluttering in his chest when the Vagabond registers his presence. Head coming up along with the gun.

Gavin lifts his own hands, more worried the Vagabond will pull the trigger accidentally given the shape he's in, than anything else.

They stare at one another for a long moment, and then the Vagabond crumples with a pained wheeze, gun clattering out of his grip. Head still turned towards Gavin, as if he wants to see what's coming his way next, no matter what it may be.

Gavin stands there for a moment longer, biting his lip as he weighs his options. Considers the Vagabond. A man who's gained himself a fearsome reputation and has quite the impressive resume behind him bleeding out in a dirty back alley like none of it means a damn thing in the end.

Gavin's face twists, a quiet, “bugger me,” slipping out of him as he moves toward the injured man. 

Realizes Burnie's been right this whole time, lamenting the fact that Gavin's going to get himself killed like this one day. All these terrible decisions he makes again and again and again. (Somewhere in there, though, there's a reason why Burnie listens to Gavin, why Burnie sends him on jobs like this.)

========

This isn't a city Gavin's familiar with, but the Roosters have a presence here. A few phone calls later and Gavin and the Vagabond are back at the safe house.

Gavin hovers, nervous, worried, as a woman sees to the Vagabond's injuries. The man watching them the whole time, quiet, something threatening in it, and when she's done, Gavin ushers her out, shoves money at her in a bid to keep news leaking back to Burnie immediately. (Word will still reach him, this Gavin knows like nothing else. He's just...hoping to buy a little time between now and then. Stave off the lecture, the yelling, a little bit longer.)

Gavin settles down with his laptop, thoughts too stirred up, flighty, distracted, to focus on work, so he falls back on an old standard. Pulls up YouTube and watches cat videos (as you do) all too aware of the Vagabond watching him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gavin blinks, looks up to see the Vagabond sitting up and staring at Gavin like he doesn't understand how someone could possibly be this stupid.

“Um?”

It's been a little over an hour, and Gavin's started to settle back into his bones, soothed by endless videos of cats and kittens and the antics they get up to, so it takes him a moment to redirect.

“I could have killed you,” The Vagabond says, and it seems as though it's meant to be a threat, or maybe a promise, and only comes out bewildered. “Back there, I could have killed you.”

There's also the implied _I could kill you now, you stupid fuck, you left me_ my gun.

Gavin's fingers curl around the edge of his laptop as he watches the Vagabond. Pale, little streaks and smears of blood, bloodstained clothing, and still finds he doesn't regret the decisions that have led to now. ( _Yet_ , he thinks as the Vagabond continues to stare at him unnervingly, _yet_.)

“Yes, well,” Gavin says with a confidence he doesn't truly feel, realizing it's just the two of them in this cozy little safe house. “You didn't, did you.”

The Vagabond huffs, turning his gaze away from Gavin and looks down at himself. Bandages and stitches and a patchwork of scars with a few new ones in the making. Alive, clearly, and he looks back at Gavin, something hard in the angle of his head, the glint of his eyes through the mask.

“Why.”

And Gavin, he thinks about it for a long, long moment, laptop humming in his hands. Thinks about reputations and legacies, and how they don't mean a thing in the end if there isn't someone out there to remember. How even the infamous Vagabond would have been forgotten soon enough.

Tips his head to the side and offers up a helpless little shrug. “Why not?”

=========

Years later, when Gavin's been working for Geoff for a good while, when Los Santos knows better than to touch a hair on the head of any of Ramsey's people, the Vagabond will give Geoff the same answer.

Will go all the way to Los Santos, cutting down smaller fish in a big pond, greedy ones chasing after the bounty that's been placed on Gavin's head. Far too tempting a prize to ignore, one that breaks past the long-standing fear of Ramsey and the vengeance he brings down on anyone who hurts one of his. 

He'll track Gavin down to a seedy little apartment building and something that was meant to be a simple meet, old friends catching up to talk business, and put a bullet in the heads of the men surrounding him, taunting him, small and mean and petty to the very end.

Years later and Gavin will grin up at Geoff, bloody and beaten when the Vagabond brings him back to the penthouse, and say, “Remember that friend I told you about?”

Geoff will stare blankly at him with Jack and Ray and Michael arrayed behind him, hands on guns as the Vagabond helps Gavin over to the couch. 

“The one you keep sending cat videos to?” he'll ask, because that's all he knows, at a loss for anything else to say at the way Gavin leans into the Vagabond as though he isn't one of the most terrifying people in the world. 

Geoff will look at the Vagabond, staring down at Gavin. This man with a fearsome reputation and an impressive resume behind him, and ask, “Why?”

The Vagabond will look over at him, something wry to it as he answers, “Why not?”

========

And later still, the Vagabond will take a job from Geoff, Gavin quietly smug as that first job turns to two, to three, and so on until the infamous Vagabond throws in his lot with the Fakes for good.

========

Burnie isn't happy with him, when Gavin gets back.

Stares at him for a long, long time before he sighs.

“Fucking idiot,” he says, and Gavin smiles, small and helpless because Burnie's not wrong, is he.

========

Not long afterward, news reaches Gavin that Dan's gone and gotten himself into a spot of trouble, and Gavin heads to England.

The last time he was here he was young and too stupid by far, clueless and naive in so many ways. This time he has Burnie and the Roosters at his back, and Dan to think of, and he's older now, smarter.

Dan greets him with a hug, a “B!” and after all this time, Gavin feels a little piece of himself slot home, feels something click into place.

It's a tangled mess Dan's gotten himself into, and Gavin dives into it right beside him cutting their way clear with ruthless efficiency.

When Gavin heads back to America, he leaves a thread with Dan, stronger now than what he left behind years ago. Roosters and Fakes holding the other end when Gavin can't, some measure of peace of mind for Gavin in it.

========

Gavin hears the rumors of Michael when he returns to America. Whispered things floating about base, that Jack was back for a short little while. Chasing down someone who'd caught his attention, caught _Burnie's_ attention.

Someone who had a talent with explosives working for a shitty little gang in Jersey of all places. 

Gavin hears Jack is the one to put out feelers, and while the guy had been interested – and who wouldn't be, with the Roosters, the Fakes, taking note of you? – there were prior commitments involved. A crew and debts and the kind of loyalty that runs deep, the kind of thing the Roosters, the Fakes value.

Gavin hears they leave the offer open, and that this guy says he'll consider it in a way that means he won't, really, but thanks all the same, that's the thing that piques his curiosity most.

He does a little digging, and then he takes a little trip. Quick little flight out east, back before anyone notices, really. 

It doesn't take him long for Gavin to realize Geoff would love this guy, is probably why Jack came back for a bit, once Gavin finds him, has the chance to talk to him.

Smart and sharp-tongued. Clever, and honest. Brutally so at times.

Gavin finds him at a little burger place – and frowns at the bruises, cuts on the guy's face and hands. The way he holds himself, aches and bruises and unable to show weakness in their world, not like this.

Feels a little curl of anger at the way this guy, Michael, watches him. 

Warily, because he knows who Gavin works for, figures at his back casting long shadows, but there's something else to it, too. Something Gavin knows.

And this is the thing, Burnie's not the first person Gavin's worked for.

Back in England there had been others, before Burnie, the Roosters, because he was young and too stupid by far and in over his head from the beginning.

There were a few gangs, crews there, people he worked with after getting into trouble after trouble after trouble. People who didn't give a damn about those working for them past how useful, helpful they were. Gavin's been knocked around and made to feel small by people like that, and can see a little of it in Michael and the way he still wants to bite back, consequences be damned.

And Gavin likes him, the way Michael meets his eyes squarely despite that, doesn't let Gavin get away with things. Solid and steady and this anger to him that _burns_.

Michael thinks he's there on behalf of Burnie, of Jack, and Gavin lets him because it sounds better than Gavin's endless curiosity getting the better of him once more, his knack of landing himself in trouble thanks to his poor decision making.

He brings up the offer Burnie and Jack made to him again, and when Michael starts to decline, Gavin slides a card over to him with a number that leads back to Geoff on it.

“If you're not interested in working for Burnie,” Gavin says, something sly in his voice that catches Michael's attention. “You might want to consider working for Geoff Ramsey over in Los Santos. He's got big plans for that city, and something tells me you'd love a challenge like that.”

Michael's hand twitches towards the card before he scowls suspiciously at Gavin.

“Right,” he growls. “Like you know anything about me, you British fuck.”

Gavin smiles, crooked, and shrugs.

“Jack's there.”

He sees Michael hesitate, and his smile softens.

Burnie is so very _Burnie_. Larger than life and full of ambition and goals and dreams, and that can be overwhelming at times, Gavin knows. Geoff's like that too, in his own way, but Jack.

Jack is steady, calm. _Kind_ in a world with little care for such things.

“Think about it, yeah?” Gavin says, voice quiet as he places the card in Michael's hand. “Burnie and Geoff look after their own.”

========

It doesn't happen immediately, no. Michael's stubbornly loyal, but eventually something happens to snap the ties of loyalty between Michael and his crew and he goes to Los Santos.

Gavin knows, because Geoff calls him up, asks him what he did to piss Michael off that he came in looking like he'd gone a few rounds and yelling about some stupid British fuck.

Gavin grins, laughs, and says, “I don't know what you're on about, Geoff.”

========

Dan gets into trouble, again, and Gavin goes to lend a hand.

Things don't go as smoothly this time, no, because they both almost die a dozen times over before Dan catches a bullet in his lung and Gavin gets a knife in his leg and somehow still manage to call it a victory when the dust settles.

========

Burnie sends him to Los Santos after that, tired and helpless and so damn worried. Hugs Gavin, and says, “Get the fuck over there, before Geoff brings his boys here to drag you back.”

Gavin goes, ache in his chest because there's something final about it this time, that long flight to Los Santos.

But then there's Geoff, waiting for him at the airport with Jack beside him.

Geoff takes one look at Gavin, and swears, low, before dragging Gavin into a hug, tight and crushing and enough like coming home to ease the ache in his chest. “Long time no see, dickhead.”

The drive to the penthouse is spent with Geoff filling Gavin in on the latest developments with the Fakes, Gavin listening with half an ear as he watches the city blur past. 

He's tired, Gavin is, life at some kind of crossroads and he can't be bothered to care overmuch.

Michael's there when they walk into the penthouse, and Gavin feels himself smile at that. Glad to see him there, a different man than he was all those months ago.

Michael walks up to him, eyes narrowing as he takes Gavin in. Scruffy and bit bruised up, noticeable limp and dull ache in his leg, and sighs. Curls his hand around the back of Gavin's neck and pulls him over to the couch where someone is watching them, game controller in his hand. (Kerry, Gavin learns later. Old friend of Michael's and the impetus for Michael to call Jack up in the middle of the night sounding far too young and worried asking if the offer was still open.)

“You look like shit, asshole,” Michael says, gruff, but there's no mistaking the protective way he's looking at Gavin, the way he puts himself between Gavin and the others even though he has to know they're safe.

Gavin appreciates it, though, too tired to deal with Geoff's worry and Jack's concern at the moment, and gives Michael a small smile, grateful.

========

The ache in Gavin's chest eases, lessens, as he re-learns Los Santos. Finds where he fits in with the Fakes, surprised at the way they fit together against all reason.

Geoff and Jack familiar, known. The way Ray comes and goes, welcome always assured. The way Michael keeps an eye on all of them, angry and annoyed and fiercely protective. Kerry and the odd space he occupies, quiet and watchful and so, so clever.

Gavin, and the room Geoff's had set aside for him for years, enough space for his computers, his gear, and smirks when Gavin looks at him askance.

“What, you think I'd let Burnie keep you? Nah, you're _ours_ , idiot. Get used to it.”

He does, and laughs to himself whenever Geoff turns to him with pained expression after some bit of stupidity aided by Michael and Ray and Kerry, and every so often, Jack.

Thinks, _yes, this,_ when Dan comes to visit. Sees the chaos that is Gavin's life now, and asks if he remembers when they were both young and too stupid by far, wondering if they'd ever find a place to call home and mean it.

========

Gavin's on a job for Burnie, doing an old friend a favor, isn't he, and Ryan comes along with him because none of them like or trust the man Gavin's to meet with, when they stumble on Jeremy.

Rollins is mean and cruel and petty for the sake of it, but it's the price of doing business, isn't it. Got to swallow down their pride and all that. 

Even so, Gavin doesn't like the way Ryan's eyes shutter when the man, Rollins, leads them to some dingy basement arena and they see the cages.

“Lovely,” Gavin says, revulsion rising in him as they pass cheering crowds yelling for blood, mindless and stupid and dangerous.

Rollins laughs, oblivious, and Gavin decides then and there to absolutely ruin the man, no matter how long it takes him. (Days, months, years from now it doesn't matter, he'll do it.)

Ryan must see it in his face, head tilting just so, and Gavin smiles. _They'll_ do it, then, bring Rollins and his little empire down, nothing but smoldering rubble all around him.

Gavin exchanges small talk with Rollins, pulling at the polite trappings they bother with even here, now, until the lights go down and two figures enter the arena.

Gavin watches because Rollins is watching _him_ , gauging his reaction and planning accordingly, the deal Burnie wants Gavin to make on the line. So Gavin watches, sees the smaller figure – short and stocky and seemingly all muscle strut to the center of the ring, arms held wide as he plays to the crowd.

He hides it well, but there's not missing the way he moves, previous injuries and not enough time to let them heal properly, and of course there wouldn't be. Not when someone with Rollins' reputation is behind this.

“Defending champion,” Rollins says, something vile in his voice, and Gavin knows, knows, he has his claws in the man in the ring somehow. “Kid can take a _lot_ of punishment.”

Out of the corner of his eye Gavin sees Ryan shift, catches the disgusted look in his eyes when they make brief eye contact.

And then the fight starts, hard, brutal, bones breaking and blood flying and Gavin watches because he has no other choice.

========

Later once the deal is arranged to everyone's satisfaction, once business is done, Gavin does some research. Makes some calls, pulls out his laptop while Ryan reads in the bed next to him, humming some song or other quietly under his breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Gavin hisses, angry all over again at what he finds, so, so close to saying the hell with it and burning Rollins' empire down right now with the bastard at the center of it.

“You should call Jack,” Ryan says, seemingly focused on his book still, in spite of the slow curl of a smile on his face.

“Oh?” Gavin says, powering his laptop down, sliding Ryan a _look_.

Ryan grins. “Get him to set a room up for the kid.”

Gavin huffs, fond exasperation.

“Oh, please,” Ryan says, setting his book aside, turning to look at Gavin. “Like you don't have a bad habit of collecting strays.”

Gavin opens his mouth to deny it because that's just not true. Burnie's the one who does that – look at Gavin, the way the Roosters have grown since then. Look at _Geoff_ , at Jack, and the way the Fakes are growing. 

Not him, never him. 

“Ray called,” Ryan says, laughter in his voice as he tugs Gavin's laptop away. “Said he'll be in Los Santos in a week, wanted to get together for a video game marathon if we're not in the middle of trying to get ourselves killed in outrageous ways.”

Ryan pauses, admits, “I paraphrased, a bit there, but you get the gist, I'm sure.”

Gavin winces, because - 

Ray's more of a vagabond than Ryan these days, and that's fine, because the Fakes have expanded their territory, and Burnie can always use a good sniper. Ray takes jobs here and there, working for the Roosters and the Fakes, but always seems to find his way back to Los Santos in the end, and it works.

It works in the way Geoff and Jack do, the way Michael and Kerry and all the others in between do. The way Ryan does, and the prick is still laughing. 

“Shut up,” Gavin says, weak protest.

“Make me,” Ryan teases, and Gavin - 

Gavin glares at him, this exasperating dork of a man. Someone feared by so many, brutal and ruthless when the circumstances call for it, but right now, right here?

He's smirking up at Gavin, something soft and warm in his eyes, calloused hand reaching up to cup Gavin's cheek.

“All right,” Gavin says, voice going soft and quiet on him, as he lets Ryan pull him down for a kiss, “Since you insist.”

========

A few days later Gavin strolls up to a little cafe one Jeremy Dooley tends to visit at lunchtime on a certain day, Ryan in tow.

He spots Jeremy in a back booth, hood of his jacket pulled up, Aviators on his face and from a distance he looks like anyone his age hanging out in a cafe and not a vicious underground fighter.

“Urgh,” Gavin utters, turning his head to look up at Ryan when he chuckles.

“Problem?” Ryan asks, because he's insufferable, absolutely insufferable.

“I didn't think to check to see if he's colorblind,” Gavin hisses, eyes feeling a bit like they're bleeding as he beholds Jeremy's terrible fashion choices.

Ryan hums, placing a hand in the middle of Gavin's back and giving a gentle nudge. “People are starting to stare,” he murmurs, sweet smile on his face as he nods to a waiter eyeing them warily.

Gavin sighs, and pushes on putting on a brave smile as he does. Sees the exact moment when Jeremy notices them, going tense and wary when he recognizes Gavin. Eyes ticking over his shoulder to Ryan and puts two and two together.

“So you're Jeremy,” Gavin says, Ryan standing behind him. There's sunlight coming in through the windows, blinding light like a spotlight on the table Jeremy's chosen.

“And you're Gavin.” Jeremy says, nervously, and Gavin feels laughter building up in him at the certain sense of déjà vu.

========

Mere months later, and Jeremy's fashion sense has only gotten worse.

“For fuck's sake, Jeremy,” Gavin laments, eyes turned away from the blindingly white cowboy hat he's wearing proudly. “ _Why?”_

And Jeremy, the little shit, smirks and says, “Aesthetic.”

Gavin looks helplessly at him, at the others all around him laughing until they cry, so damned amused, and thinks, _This is my life, then, is it?_ and can't find it in him to regret any of it.


End file.
